Chapter 9 - The Name on the Birth Certificate
Mateo found Gabriel's room empty.
The betrayal seemed complete.
But Harper refused to believe appearances again.
“That is exactly how Simon framed me.”
Mateo stopped.
Eight months earlier, he would have reacted first.
Now he listened.
“Explain.”
“Someone wants you angry. Again.”
Mateo stared at the video.
The man beside Weller resembled Gabriel.
But Harper noticed something.
His left ear.
A scar.
The Gabriel they knew had no scar.
“Not him.”
Mateo enlarged the frame.
Twin?
No.
Facial reconstruction.
An impersonator.
The Consortium had spent decades manufacturing evidence.
Why stop now?
Liam located Gabriel twenty minutes later.
He had followed a suspicious vehicle without telling anyone.
Mateo nearly punched him anyway.
Harper screamed from the bedroom:
“If either Falcone brother starts a fight while I'm in labor, I will personally kill both of you!”
Silence.
Then Gabriel called back:
“Understood!”
Even Harper's doctor laughed.
At 3:42 p.m., after fourteen hours of labor, Harper gave birth to a boy.
For Mateo, the world stopped.
The doctor placed the crying infant against Harper's chest.
Mateo stared.
Harper had never seen him look so defenseless.
“Come here,” she whispered.
He approached.
“Touch him.”
Mateo's tattooed hand trembled.
He touched one tiny foot.
The baby immediately kicked him.
Harper laughed through tears.
“Definitely yours.”
Mateo bent his head.
His shoulders shook once.
Harper realized he was crying.
She reached for him.
Mateo kissed her forehead.
Then his son's.
“What do we call him?”
Harper looked at the tiny face.
“I don't know yet.”
Mateo smiled.
“For once, neither do I.”
For several hours, there was peace.
Then a nurse arrived with birth-registration forms.
Harper stared at the blank space.
FATHER.
Mateo stood beside her.
“You decide.”
She looked at him.
“You're his father.”
“I know. But you decide what goes on the paper.”
It mattered.
He understood that.
Harper wrote:
Mateo Antonio Falcone.
Mateo inhaled sharply when he saw the middle name.
His father.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
She signed.
Then the nurse left.
Five minutes later, Liam rushed in.
“The nurse.”
“What?”
“She doesn't work here.”
Mateo turned toward the door.
The birth certificate was gone.
So was the woman.
Security locked down the building.
Too late.
Harper held her baby closer.
“What could they do with a birth certificate?”
Liam answered.
“Prove succession.”
The Consortium did not merely control businesses through debt.
Some contracts tied ownership to Falcone bloodlines.
The baby had become legal leverage.
Mateo's son could inherit assets the Consortium wanted.
Harper suddenly understood the “acquisition pending” notation.
“They don't need the baby.”
Mateo looked at her.
“They need his identity.”
“Yes.”
A message appeared on Mateo's phone.
CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR SON.
Attached was a photograph.
The stolen birth certificate.
Below it:
MIDNIGHT. OLD FALCONE BANK. BRING THE SECOND LEDGER.
Mateo frowned.
“We don't have a second ledger.”
Harper looked at the leather books.
Then remembered the scratched numbers on her silver drive.
She decoded them.
They were coordinates.
Not for an account.
For a safe-deposit box.
At the old Falcone Bank.
Box 243.
The exact number of days Harper had been missing.
Mateo stared at her.
“That isn't coincidence.”
“No.”
Harper looked at her newborn son.
Someone had planned her return down to the day.
And whoever had done it knew she would come back pregnant.
The hospital-room phone rang.
Mateo answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a woman whispered:
“Harper was never supposed to survive the pregnancy.”
The line went dead.
May you like
Harper stared at Mateo.
And the newborn monitor beside her suddenly began flashing red.
